A Hotel in Ridgeway
by laurieb89
Summary: While on the road between hunts Sam's shinning goes into over drive. Dean is the only one who can help him. Set season 1 sometime after Nightmare. A hurt/sick!Sam Awesome!Dean story.


The classic black Chevy roared smoothly along the mountain road. Dean Winchester's grip was firm but sure as he maneuvered the car around tight corners and sharp turns. The sun was slipping behind the snow topped mountain peaks that surrounded them.

All was right with the world. He and his brother Sam had just finished a hunt in Texas and were heading up to Montana. They'd gotten new coordinates from their father and while Dean knew Sammy was chomping at the bit to actually talk to him, Dean figured it'd be best if they all kept their distance for awhile. He wasn't sure how their father was going to react to Sam's newly developing psychic abilities.

He glanced over at his brother who'd fallen asleep somewhere around the New Mexico Colorado state line. Dean smiled, figuring Sam was in for a real kink in his neck the way his head lolled back against the seat. Still, it was good to see his brother actually sleeping for a change. All that had happened with Max Miller and his family had left Sam hurting in ways that Dean couldn't even begin to understand. He sighed and shook his head. Why couldn't anything just be simple?

The Impala rocked as Dean steered carefully around a sharp turn and as he looked to the left, he could see the twinkling lights of a small mountain town down below. The sign said fifteen miles to Ridgeway.

The hunt in Texas hadn't been too difficult. Thanks to Missouri's hex bags, it was a piece of cake to cleanse a house of poltergeists these days.

A quiet moan filled the silence as Dean took his eyes off the treacherous road to glance quickly at his brother. Sam's forehead crinkled in distress and Dean wondered if it was just a regular nightmare or something worse. He reached a hand over to jostle his brother.

"Sam, wake up."

Sam bolted upright at the touch, his breathing ragged as he sucked in a lungful of air. "NO."

"Whoa, easy there, Sammy," Dean said as he put both hands back on the wheel. "Just a dream."

Sam ran his hands through his hair as his breathing slowed and Dean found himself frowning at his brother's pale complexion.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, "just a dream."

"No Haley Joel thing?" Dean asked.

"No, just—" he paused, "I can't remember."

"You okay?" he asked as Sam swiped at his nose.

"Shit, another nose bleed."

Dean glanced over feeling a tingling of alarm at the amount of blood pouring from Sam's nose. "Whoa, Sam. That's really bleeding."

"Ugh, yeah."

"Here," Dean said as he tossed the bandana from his pocket towards his brother. "Head back."

"I know, I know." Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever, Princess. There's a town up ahead. You wanna call it a night?"

"No," Sam said. "Let's just keep driving."

"You sure? You look beat, Sammy." He glanced again at his brother.

"Yeah, let's just keep going."

"All righty then," Dean said, settling in for a long drive.

It was only a few minutes later when Sam spoke again. "Changing my mind."

"You ready to tell me your dreams, Sammy?"

"Gah, no, Dean. About stopping."

Dean frowned again. "Really?"

Sam reached up to rub his forehead. "Yeah. Headache."

Dean's big brother alarm bells began to ding. "Vision headache?"

Sammy's silence said a lot as he continued to rub his head. "No, yes, maybe."

"Yeah well that's real clear."

Sam mustered a chuckle. "Sorry, it's just different, like the dream different but…" He swallowed, his face going a delicate shade of pale.

"What, Sam?"

"Pull over!"

"What? Here? Geez, Sammy there's a cliff out my window."

"Throwing up, Dean."

"No, no, no. Just take it easy, bro. Breathe. Nose still bleeding?"

"No," Sammy moaned as he leaned forward, head in his hands. "Just…" He stopped to swallow hard.

Just ahead the road widened enough to let Dean pull the Impala over and Sam was out the door in a heartbeat.

Dean rounded the back of the Impala. "Easy Sam," he said as he reached around his heaving brother to support him. "Guess we're stopping for the night after all."

xoxoxo

The old hotel stood guard at the end of the main street in the little mountain town. Dean pulled up and looked over at his brother.

"Could be right out of my man Jack's best movie, eh, Sammy?"

"I'm not sure I really want to relive The Shining, Dean," he replied."It didn't end well."

"Ah, come on. Where's your sense of adventure?" He eyed his brother carefully as he climbed out of the Impala.

"Think I left it on the side of the road back there."

"Yeah, thank God there was enough room to pull over. Wouldn't want you to mess up my baby's upholstery."

Sam's pale face made no response to the gentle jibe and Dean's big brother alarm went up a notch.

"Dean, I need to lay down, man."

"Easy, Sammy," he said as he rounded the Impala, shifting a shoulder underneath his brothers arm to help him into the old hotel.

They entered the lobby with only a little difficulty and Dean took a quick look around. The hotel must have been built originally in the 1800's but had been recently remodeled, a mix of the old and new that was quite tasteful. Dean shook his head, wondering when he had become the fine connoisseur of hotel décor. There were some plush velvety looking chairs arranged casually throughout the lobby and Dean steered his ailing brother towards one of them.

"I'm gonna check in and then get you some meds and horizontal…not necessarily in that order!" He received a shaky nod from Sam and paused to move the trash can closer…just in case.

The young woman behind the desk looked at him with wide eyes behind tortoise shell glasses as he approached. Dean pasted on his you are the best thing since sliced bread look and leaned elbows on the counter.

"Hi there," he said with a glance at the name badged pinned neatly to her uniform, "Amy."

She swallowed hard and darted a quick glance at his brother who chose at that moment to begin retching in the trash can. "Hi." She swallowed again. "Is he okay?"

Dean shot a troubled look back at his brother as he upchucked everything he'd eaten since last Christmas. "Yeah, some stomach bug I think. I need to get him horizontal if ya know what I mean."

She swallowed one more time and nodded. "Yeah. I think that'd be a good idea." She turned her attention towards the computer. "I've got quite a lot open just now. It's our slow season. Would you like a suite?"

Dean paused a moment, considered which credit cards he might be able to use and then nodded. "Yeah, Amy. We'll take a suite then for oh let's see," he paused as Sam retched again, "let's make that two nights, with the possibility of three."

She smiled as she took his card. "I hope your…" she looked again at Sam, "…partner feels better soon."

Dean frowned at the word partner. "He's my brother. Just my brother." His voice must have been a bit stronger than he'd meant it to be because Amy took a step back, eyes gone wide again.

"Of course, Mr.—"she looked down at the card with a puzzled look, "Mr. Ford. I should have seen the resemblance immediately."

"Right," Dean drawled, "cause we look so much alike."

Amy smiled again, all teeth and insincerity. "Here's your card back and your key. Please sign here."

Dean took the paper with a scowl and scrawled a series of bumps and whorls before handing it back and taking the key. "Thanks."

"Just take the elevator up the third floor. It's the second room on your left."

Dean smiled again and made his way back to his brother who had stopped retching and was laying back in the chair, his face chalk white with his eyes closed.

"Sammy," he said, shoving the trash can to the side with an apologetic look back towards Amy. "You ready to go up?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, man," he said as he put a hand on his brother's forehead. "When did you start throwing a fever?"

"Don't feel so good Dean,"

"Yeah, I get that Sammy, so let's get you into a bed."

"'K" Sam staggered to his feet and went even whiter.

"Easy there big guy," he said as he maneuvered his gigantic brother towards the aging elevator and pulled the metal gate closed.

"Where we at?" Sam asked, eyes half open as the elevator lurched up.

"In an antique elevator, bro." He looked closely at his brother. "You feeling any better after hurling everything you ate since last Halloween?"

"Ugh." Sam put a hand on his stomach. "Don't say hurled."

Dean huffed out a chuckle as the elevator stopped. "I gotcha, Sammy." He helped his brother out the door and then staggered a bit under his weight as Sam stumbled. A few quick steps had them at the suite and Dean opened the door with the old skeleton key. "They're a bit old fashioned here," he muttered.

"Dean." Sam's voice held that hint of panic that Dean had heard from his brother every time he was about to be sick, since Sam was a tiny baby.

"Right here, Sammy.' He led his brother to the bathroom which boasted a large claw foot tub, a pedestal sink and most importantly, a toilet. He helped his brother to his knees as Sam began to heave again. "Man, what did you eat?"

"It doesn't feel like that," Sam muttered as he rested his head on the rim of the toilet.

A frown creased Dean's face. "What do you mean?"

"Almost like the aftermath of a vision—" he paused to swallow—"only worse."

"So this is like your shining thing without the vision?"

"Yeah." Sam swallowed again. "Headache, nausea, the whole bit and I gotta say, it sucks!"

"You go that right, Sammy." He cracked open one of the water bottles on the counter. "Rinse and spit, dude. You'll feel better."

Sam took the water bottle and Dean could tell by the look on his face that he'd drink the whole thing if he thought it wouldn't come right back up again but settled for spitting the water out. Dean flushed the toilet.

"Thanks," he said as he handed the bottle back.

"You feel like crashing for awhile or you wanna just stay in here?"

"Bed," his brother replied. "I think if I could just sleep it off I'll be fine."

Dean reached down and grasped his brother's arm. "Bed it is, Sasquatch."

xoxoxo

Dean sat by his brother's bedside, head in one hand, phone in the other. His father's number was called up on the screen, a mere push of a button away and yet Dean hesitated. His father hadn't answered the phone any time in the past few months, why would he start now? And what could Dean tell him, really? He set the phone down and turned to look at his brother. Sam lay still, his breathing shallow and a fine sheen of sweat covering his brow. Dean reached to the bedside table and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water and wiped Sam's face, hoping for some reaction. Sam's brow wrinkled as the cool cloth touched his face and suddenly hazel eyes snapped open.

Dean froze. "Sammy?"

"No!" Sam shouted and lunged up, arms akimbo as he struggled against the covers. "Leave Dean alone!"

"Sam, easy." He wrapped strong arms around his brother and tried to push him back down. "I'm right here, not going anywhere."

"You can't go, Dean," Sam said, his eyes latching onto his brothers. Dean would've felt that would've been an improvement if he thought Sam was actually there.

"Nope, not going anywhere," he said again.

"Dean," Sam murmured as he lay back down. "I can't do it alone."

"You don't have to, dude." He reached for the water bottle. "You need to drink something, Sam. Open up."

"It's hot."

"Yeah, I think your fever broke cause you were complaining it was cold a little while ago."

"Fever?"

He helped his brother take a sip and then let him rest back down. "If I thought you were with me at all, Sammy, I'd be a happy man."

"With you? Are we lost?"

"Not lost," he paused to wipe the sweat off his own brow, "just stuck here for a bit."

"Head hurts, Dean," his baby brother muttered.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. "You can have more ibuprofen in a couple hours but until then, you'll just have to hang in there."

"'K," was the only reply as Sam's eyes slid shut again and Dean leaned back with a sigh.

"Yeah. So not good, Sam. You got till the end of the day and then I'm breaking all the rules and taking you to a hospital."

xoxoxo

Dean stood and walked to the window, peering out at the gathering darkness. Heavy snow clouds blocked the rising sun and Dean wondered if they were in for a mountain snow storm. He glanced down at the street, wondering if he could see the Impala from here when he noticed two men standing in the street, staring up at their window. "What the hell?" He moved to open the window when a sound from behind stopped him.

"Sam?" he asked as he turned towards the bed. Sam remained motionless on the bed but the basin of water setting on the bedside table appeared to have been knocked down to the floor. "Dude, really?"

He stepped towards the spilled water when the bowl moved again, sailing across the floor and hitting the opposite wall.

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned towards his brother. The frown lines had reappeared on his forehead and his head moved side to side. A small trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

"Sammy, wake up." Dean sat on the bed next to his brother.

Sam's eyes remained shut and he turned his head away from Dean. "Stop," he muttered.

Dean leaned forward to shake his brother when the bowl moved again, skidding across the floor and then rising to sit once again on the table next to Dean.

"Sam," Dean said again, more urgency in his voice. "Wake up."

"Leave him alone," was his brother's only reply and the bowl rose up again before slamming down on the table.

"Sam!" Dean said with a violent shake to his brother. "Wake up!"

"Dean?" Sam blinked at his brother. "What?"

"Easy," He mopped at the blood on his brother's face, pleased to see it had stopped.

"Nose bleed?"

"Looks like it. How you feeling?"

Sam paused as if to take inventory. "Better, I think."

"Yeah, well, you still look like death warmed over and I think we've got other issues."

"Other issues? Dude, what do you mean?"

"I think this bug has your shinning in overdrive. The bowl just moved across the room and back," Dean said with a gesture towards the empty water bowl.

"What?" Sam moved to sit up, his face paling even more. "How can that be? The only time I was able to move something was when I thought Max was going to kill you."

"Beats me, Sammy." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to kill the prickly feeling between his shoulder blades that usually meant all was not right in his world. "Can you move it now that you're awake?"

A frown crossed his brother's brow as he looked at the bowl. It wobbled a bit before floating an inch in the air and then dropping back to the table with a clang. "Holy shit, I did it." He leaned back against the bedframe, exhaustion evident in every movement.

"That's enough, Sam." Dean put a hand on his brother's forehead. "You're running a pretty good fever. Time for some more meds." He got up and walked towards the med kit. "Something about this place feels off to me."

"Yeah? I've only met the bathroom on an intimate level so far. Hard for me to say."

Dean chuckled at his brother's humor. "You got that right." He brought the pills back to his brother along with a fresh water bottle he'd plucked off the bathroom counter. He shrugged his shoulders as he struggled to find the words to describe how he was feeling. "It's like my skin is itchy or something is watching us, heck, I don't know. Maybe it's just my imagination. Been doing this job way too long."

Sam smiled as he took a swig of water. "Yeah, only your whole life." He set the water bottle on the table and turned to look at Dean. "I just feel like something is draining my batteries, like I can't get enough sleep or something." He paused and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "And this headache! Man!"

"No visions or anything?"

"No, just the pain of having one." He had sunk a little lower against the bedframe, dark circles under his eyes.

"Dude, you look worse than some vampire victims I've seen."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, kinda feel like that too."

Dean frowned at a sudden thought, remembering the men on the street for the first time since the flying bowl. Maybe there was more going on here than just a random bug. He took two quick strides to the window.

"What?"

"Well, just before the bowl started its levitating act there were two guys out there staring up at our window but before I could do anything I got a little distracted."

"Are they there now?" Sam asked, sitting up a little higher.

"No," Dean replied as he looked down at the street. Snow had begun to fall, fat white flakes drifting out of the sky and there was no sign of the strange men. "And I don't think we're going anywhere soon…it's snowing and it looks like it's gonna last." He turned to look at his brother again. "You feel like eating anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Just tired."

Dean sighed and turned to look at the street again. "Try to get some more sleep, bro. I'll wake you in four hours for more meds. We got to keep on top of that fever. I don't think I wanna drive anywhere in this but I will if you aren't feeling much better by tomorrow."

When nothing but silence greeted him, he turned once more to look at his brother. Sam had slid sideways and was asleep, his mouth open and pain lines etched on his forehead. Dean sighed and moved to the bed and pulled his brother into a more comfortable position before settling down in the chair next to his bedside. He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV and propped his feet on his brother's bed with a sigh. Might as well get caught up on his day time TV.

xoxoxo

Dean was jolted awake when something his arm. He bolted upright, spidey senses tingling as he looked around for whatever had hit him. The TV was still on, a distant drone of background noise and Dean reached for the remote only to discover it wasn't where he had left it. Instead he saw it sitting on the dresser next to the TV. He frowned for a minute and then looked down at his feet. Sam's phone sat next to his right foot.

"How did you get there?" he asked. He reached down to grab it only to have it skitter away, as if he had kicked it. "Damn it, Sam," he said and turned towards his brother. "Enough already."

The words died in his throat as he took in his brother. Sam lay still, his breathing shallow and his face completely chalk white. Blood oozing from his nose and dripping on the pillow.

"Sam?" He shook his brother, receiving a moan for his troubles and nothing more. "Come on, Sammy, wake up."

The TV floated up off the dresser before settling back down with a thump. Dean swallowed and turned again towards his brother. "Now, Sam."

He reached down and gripped his brother's shoulders, giving a gentle shake.

"You need to fight this, Sammy. Don't make me take you to the hospital. Come on, now."

Maybe it was the "h" word or some inner thing about Sam that always responded to his big brother, Dean didn't really care which but heaved a sigh when his brother's eyes cracked open.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, sunshine, it's me." He helped Sam to sit up, mopping at the nosebleed all the while. "You doing okay, champ?"

"No."

"Well enough to hit the road?"

"What?" Sam swung his legs to the floor. "Thought you said there was a storm."

"Yeah, but dude, I think we need to get you to a hospital."

"What?"

"Something here ain't right Sammy." He grabbed their duffels and started packing.

"Dean, stop. You're not making any sense."

"Yeah, well you moving the furniture around isn't making sense to me."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again."

"And you really think the hospital is the place to go?"

Dean stopped and lowered his head. "Yes. No. Hell, I don't know, I just got this feeling between my shoulder blades that something is wrong about this place, Sam."

"So you're the psychic one now?" his brother asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Dean barked out a laugh. "No! Dude. Really." He turned to face his younger sibling. "I just think we need to go."

"Maybe there's a case here. Maybe we need to stay and figure it all out." Sam said, rubbing at his forehead. Dean frowned.

"Headache?"

"Yeah, still. Like something is trying to burrow into my skull."

Dean frowned at the description because maybe there was a case here and maybe there was a reason Sammy had gone all x-files. He dropped the duffle and strode to the window again, sliding a hand between the curtains and barely teasing it open as he looked down at the street. This time there were four of them, three men and a woman, all staring up towards their room, towards Sam.

"What else do you feel? Weak? Tired? Drained?" he asked as he stared down at the strangers.

"Dean?" The bed creaked as Sam stood and shuffled to his side. "What is it?"

"Just a hunch," he replied.

"What kinda hunch cause you just described how I feel exactly?" He wobbled a bit as he peered out as well. The four strangers turned as one and walked away, each to a different house as the snow continued, their tracks the only visible sign they had been there at all.

"Where's Dad's journal?" Dean asked, letting the curtain fall as he turned back to the room.

"With the laptop," Sam said, gesturing towards the leather satchel that sat on the small table. "What, Dean? What are you thinking?"

Dean pulled out the journal and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until he found the spot he wanted. "A Tristrantis. Damn."

"A what?" Sam came to peer over his shoulder. "What is that?"

"A psychic vampire, for lack of a better description." He paused in his reading with a glance at his brother. "Caleb told me about 'em once. He ran into a nest of them down in the Keys I think."

"Whoa," Sam said. He sat down in the other chair and took the journal from his brother. "'A Tristrantis feeds on the energy produced by psychics.'" Sam read. "'First it lures in its victims by broadcasting a psychic sound that causes headaches, vomiting, and nausea, causing the victim to find a place to rest as they think they are coming down with some illness.' That's what happened to me."

Dean nodded. "It all makes sense now. They are amping up your abilities and then feeding on them, draining them away."

"Forever?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Could call Caleb and ask I suppose. It doesn't say there, does it?"

Sam bent to the journal again. "'Victims are found in a coma and they never awaken.' So we don't know."

"How do they even know that the victims were psychic? It's not like you carry an id card for that kinda crap." Dean got up and began pacing. "I'm calling Caleb." He pulled out his cell and punched in his friend's number.

"He may not know, Dean."

Dean waved a hand at him, listening to the ringing of the phone.

Sam sighed, his head pounding and his stomach churning. He swallowed, listening to Dean's voice as he talked to Caleb but not really hearing him. A sudden wave of nausea had him moving towards the bathroom. He swallowed again. There was nothing left in him to throw up but apparently his body didn't get the message as he knelt by the toilet.

"Gah," he moaned as the heaves trailed off. A damp washcloth was thrust into his face as he leaned away from the toilet.

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam glared at his brother. "Not exactly."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Caleb know much?" he asked as he grabbed his brother's outstretched hand and slowly gained his feet.

"Actually yeah," Dean said. "He knew how to gank these things and the sooner the better. Once they get a taste of you, they don't let go and there'll be nothing left in your melon but a pile of goo."

Sam made a face. "Yeah, that's a description I didn't need to hear, since my brain feels like goo already."

"We gotta keep you awake. Caleb says they can't feed if you're awake so, coffee?"

"No way. I can't keep down water and you want me to try coffee?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I see your point."

"What if we leave? Like you said earlier."

Dean shook his head. "Caleb says that once they've got your psychic signature so to speak, they can feed where ever you are."

"Dean, I can hardly stand, much less walk. I'm not gonna be much help here."

Dean smiled. "I know, bro. But fortunately for us, your job is the easy one. You just lay here and be the bait."

Sam frowned. "Okay, but what will you be doing?"

"Caleb says the Tristranis is are like the Borg, from Star Trek?"

"Yes Dean, I remember the Borg."

"Course you do, geek boy. You went around with your tricorder and phaser for weeks after you were Data for Halloween. What were you, like seven?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "How are the Tristranis like the Borg?"

"Hive mind, Sammy. Kill the queen and the rest go to dust."

"So you just got to find the queen."

"Yup. And you just got to stay awake."

Sam sighed, exhaustion pulling at him. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

"Caleb says the longer you resist and stay awake, the better. The queen will eventually be forced to come find you in person and feed directly if she can't get you asleep."

"So bait boy, that's me."

Dean laughed. "And the best thing is—" he paused as he strode to the duffle and reached in "—is we got all we need right here." He pulled out his long silver knife. "Silver right to the heart."

"Awesome." Sam shuffled over to the bed and rearranged the pillows so he could sit up against the headboard. "Any thoughts on how long this might take?" He smothered a yawn.

"Depends on how hungry they are, I guess. Who knows the last time a psychic came through here?"

"I think it's been awhile, judging by how I feel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…like I've been sucked dry."

Dean sighed. "Just gotta figure out the queen, Sammy, and you can sleep for a week." When there was no reply he glanced over at his brother. His eyelids were closed and he was slowly sliding to the left, his features lax as sleep claimed him.

"Whoa, Sam!" He took three quick steps towards his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving a gentle shake. "Wake up!"

Sam's eyelids popped open. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."

"You need to think, Sam. Who could be the queen?"

"Could be anyone, Dean. Shoot even the front desk girl downstairs." Sam yawned as his head hit the headboard with a solid thunk. "So we just wait?"

"Yeah," Dean pulled up a chair and sat next to his brother. "Here's what I'm thinking. They're going to want to get me out of here."

"Um hmm," was Sam's reply, his eyes sliding shut.

"Dude!"

"What?" Sam sat up straight at his brother's yell.

"What part of awake do you not get?"

"I'm trying, jerk." Sam swatted at Dean's arm. "So what's the plan?"

"Kansas City," He prodded his brother again. "Awake."

"Yeah, me, baitboy again," Sam yawned. "Kansas City. Got it."

"One of the few times a plan of ours actually worked." He moved to the locked door that connected their room to the one next door. He made swift work of the lock and carefully opened the door, making sure the room was empty before stepping in. A few steps and he was at the door that opened out into the hallway. Carefully, he blocked it open so that one good shove and he'd be in the room in no time.

"Dean," Sam groaned and swung legs out over the edge of the bed. "You need to be careful."

"Yeah, I know, bro. Don't be a pain in the ass, Sammy. I'm always careful," Dean said as he make his way back into their room.

"You're always a pain in the ass," Sam responded. "Ugh."

"What?"

"Sick."

"Again?"

"Bathroom, now."

"All right, princess. Let me help ya."

Sam tossed the covers back and let Dean pull him up. "Whoa."

"What?"

"Dizzy." He held onto Dean's arm as the room took a long lazy spin.

"Bet you're getting dehydrated at the very least," Dean said as he helped him negotiate the few steps to the bathroom.

Sam dropped to his knees as he began heaving yet again. "Sucks," he said between bouts.

"It does at that," Dean said as he plopped down on the rim of the bathtub.

The sudden ring of the phone in the room stopped them both. "Already?" Sam began.

Dean put a hand on his brother's back. "Showtime, Sammy. Stay in here." He got up and moved into the room.

"'M not going anywhere."

Dean smiled at him as he picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Mr. Ford?"

"Yes?" Dean replied.

"This is Amy at the front desk. We're going to need you to move your car. The snowplow is coming through and we wouldn't want it to get buried under all the snow."

"Yeah, wouldn't want my baby to get snowbound."

"Your baby?"

"Oh, sorry," Dean said. "I'll be right down." He hung up the phone and looked at his brother who stood shakily in the bathroom doorway.

"Showtime?"

"Showtime." Dean answered. "You ready, Bait boy?"

Sam nodded and Dean plucked his jacket off the chair and headed out. "Just like we planned, Sam. Don't try to be a hero here."

"I'm not the one with the hero complex," Sam replied as he moved to the bed.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said as he headed for the door. "You got your knife?"

Sam pulled it out from under the pillow before laying back on the bed, keeping it stashed under the covers.

"Wait for me, you hear Sammy?"

"Hurry, Dean."

With one quick glance back at his brother, Dean strode out the door, nerves humming. He could tell Sam was feeling worse and the hardest thing to do was to leave him vulnerable while they waited for the Tristranis to make its move.

xoxoxo

Sam lay on the bed struggling to hold it all together. His head throbbed and his stomach rumbled with nausea as he waited. A soft knock on the door had him jumping but he managed to hold himself still.

"Housekeeping."

Sam snorted to himself, a 'yeah, right,' before yelling "Come in."

The door creaked open and Amy from the front desk stepped in, a pleasant smile on her face. "We need you and your brother to move to a different room, Mr. Ford." She took a step towards him.

Sam frowned from the bed, his head aching double time. "Oh?"

"Yes," she said, taking a step closer. "There's been a misunderstanding. This wing was to be fumigated and I quite mistakenly put you up here."

"Fumigated? In February?" With each step she took, Sam felt a spreading lassitude creep over him as he felt his nose begin to bleed.

"Yes," she said. "We need to fumigate the hunters who have come to try to take us out."

Sam's eyelids drooped. Whatever mojo she had it was twice as strong when she was in person. He groped for the knife as his vision dimmed.

"No, please," he gasped.

"Yes," she said, reaching long fingers towards his head. "We need it so much more than you."

"Dean," he muttered.

"Your brother will be too late, Sam. Sleep now. It won't take long at all."

He felt her fingers touch his head followed by a blinding flash and then the darkness swept him away.

xoxoxo

Dean crept back towards their room. He'd walked past the front desk, smiling at Amy as he'd strode out the front door. As soon as it closed behind him, he jogged along the hotel towards the fire escape, climbing swiftly to return to their floor.

He eased into the room adjacent to theirs, hoping he hadn't left his brother too long to the devices of the Tristranis. He moved cautiously until he heard Sam say his name. The door swung open as he kicked it in and stopped momentarily as he spied the Tristranis leaning over his brother, long sucker-like fingers on his head as her head was cast back in ecstasy as it fed from him.

"Enough of that, you bitch," he said as thrust the knife deep into her back.

She made a high keening pitch before collapsing at his feet and quickly disintegrating into a pile of dust.

"Ok, that wasn't what I was expecting," he said with a frown. He looked towards his brother, new alarm filling him as Sam's nose continued to sluggishly bleed. "Sammy. Come on bro, wake up."

He swiped at the blood and shook his shoulders a little.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. How ya doing?"

"Head hurts."

"I bet it does." Dean checked Sam's pupils and was pleased to see them responding normally to the light and that his nosebleed had for the most part stopped.

"You get her?"

"Dead as dust," he said with a smile. "Literally"

"Nice. Think I could sleep for a week."

"Go for it, dude. I got your back."

Sam smiled weakly and nodded. "I know you do."

"Geez, princess, easy does it."

"Yeah, no chick flick moments…I get it."

Dean smiled as his brothers eyelids slid closed and he was soon sound asleep. "Just another day at the office, eh Sammy?" He frowned again, unhappy with the whole situation. His brother was a freaking psychic and that had nearly gotten him killed. It was his job to watch after his brother but how was he to watch after something he couldn't even see much less understand? Dean sighed and sat down on the other bed. One way or another, he'd make sure nothing hurt Sam. Nothing at all.


End file.
